


Fear of the Dark

by ister



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, I just needed to put them into the 21st century, M/M, Power Outage, Spoilers for Lights Out, darkness can be really scary, especially after a horror movie, everything is basically the same, the story wouldn’t work otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8451481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ister/pseuds/ister
Summary: Why horror movies are a bad thing, or: Illya and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day





	

He should have said “no”. It's such an easy thing to do with the right expression on his face, like his trademark scowl, emitting threat and the promise of a slow death. Two letters, three in Russian, four in German. And yet, he had not been able to say it.

Now, he cannot bring himself to relax. The lights go out and he wants to flee, but something keeps him in his seat.

He looks to his left. Someone, he corrects himself.

Solo catches his gaze and smiles. If it would only light up the auditorium as much as his features. He really could use more light.

It's too dark for his liking. Anyone could attack them now since it is a very open position, easy to spot, the right place for a TRUSH agent to come in and-

Illya swallows down his sigh, lifts both corners of his mouth and tries his best to smile back. He knows he is being ridiculous, but he cannot help himself. Horror movies are definitely not his cup of tea, but that is not something he can tell his colleagues, both of them far too excited to sit still.

On his left, Solo is tapping his foot and humming silently which would go on his nerves usually, but he isn't in the mood to tell him to shut up. On his other side, Gaby is shoving her third handful of popcorn into her mouth and stares at the screen in anticipation.

“It's not going to be that scary, you know,” Solo whispers suddenly.

“How do you know?” he asks disgruntled. 

“I don't,” Solo admits, smirking and clearly trying to hold back an amused laugh, “I just want to keep you in your seat.”

“You-” – “Would you two shut up?” Gaby hisses. 

Illya wants to say something else, but it's too late. The movie starts. And he is doomed. There is a short introduction scene and he already knows that he's going to jump out of his seat, embarrassing himself, making everyone else laugh. 

So he focuses on the people around him: everyone seems ready to watch the movie, most have snacks and beverages in reach. He does not find a lot of distraction, the audience is too small; only a group of girls, giggling excited, a young couple two rows in front of them, three boys, too young to watch the movie, his friends. 

Illya is so concentrated on not looking at the screen, he misses Gaby leaning over to joke with Solo about getting scared to death and nearly punches her in the face. Slowly, he lets his hand drop and sinks deeper into his seat. 

“Alright there, Peril?” Solo asks, making him jump. 

“Yes, of course” he states, voice firm. 

Nevertheless, he is very glad that Solo weaves their fingers together, his skin warm, the contact comforting. For one last time he looks around before training his gaze on the screen. He will not get scared by a silly movie! 

*** * ***

One and a half hours later, he is terrified and cannot stop the light trembling of his hands. Why did he agree to watch such an awful movie? He still sees the figure, dark, frightening, ready to-

“Der Film war doch obergeil!” Gaby interrupts his thoughts, releasing a string of enthusiastic words he doesn't understand afterwards. 

It's her trademark mixture of English and German, Solo the only one who can follow her through the rapid changes of languages. “I agree, but the ending ruined the atmosphere, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah, the thing is dead and now no one has to worry. Boring!” Gaby sighs. “It’s more thrilling to walk out with the feeling that something could be watching,” she explains, looking at Illya. 

“I guess,” he mumbles and tries to smile. 

Judging by the pained expression on Solo’s face, he looks more like “someone who bit into a lemon” again. 

“Anyways.” Gaby ignores his awkward face acrobatics. “I am hungry. Let's grab something to eat on our way back, shall we?” 

“You want to eat something?” he asks, a little bit breathless, “Now?!” 

“Uh, yeah?” Gaby looks at him, scrunching up her nose. 

“Well.” He clasps both of his hands behind his back, bouncing a little on his feet. “I need to lose weight, so I am going to go home.” 

He needs the safety of his own four walls. Solo's eyebrows shoot upwards and Illya has to resist the urge to wave them goodbye. 

“There is no ounce of fat on your body,” he states, disbelieving. 

“Yes, and I'd like to keep it that way,” Illya shoots back, “I ate way too many scotch eggs, they're not good for my body.” 

“Scotch eggs?!” 

“Waverly's fault.” He turns around and tries not to run. “I'll see you tomorrow!” 

“We are flatmates, dumbass,” Gaby shouts after him. 

Illya ignores her and begins a light jog as soon as he is out of their sight. Again, he feels ridiculous, but there is nothing he can do about it. There is something lurking in the dark, a sinister figure, a shadow with huge claws, laughing at him, waiting for him to make a single mistake and - _SNAP_. 

Pain breaks out. His hand shoots up to his head and he winces. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Gaby shouts. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he answers, rubbing the hurting spot and turns around to face her. 

She pinches her lips. “You cannot run away like that,” she states, not caring about his glare, “You're hurting him.” 

Illya shakes his head. “I'm sorry?” 

“Bist du so blöd oder stellst du dich nur so?”

He doesn't understand and stays silent. Unlike Solo, he cares about his health after all. A furious Gaby is as threatening as a full blown hurricane, ready to sweep him off his feet. 

“Napoleon,” she says finally, “I'm talking about Napoleon. What were you thinking? Being rude and running away.” 

For one short moment he wants to tell her about his fear. Then he reconsiders, because he is being childish. It was just a fictional story, nothing of it real enough to scare him. And yet, there he is, shivering, despite growing up in a country far colder than the one he is living in. 

“I was thinking about heading to bed. I am really tired.” 

“Uh-huh.” Gaby doesn't believe him. He can see it in the way she tilts her head, pouting, then nodding. "Sure, we've only been on vacation for a week." 

Again, he opens his mouth to say something, anything, to convince her, but she sees right through him. “Don't you dare lie to me!” 

“It's really silly,” he tries, but she just crosses her arms. “Go ahead.”

“It’s nothing! Why won't you leave me alone?” The anger is there again, ready to burst out, but she stands her ground, lifting her brows in her best Solo imitation. “I'm waiting.” 

“How can you be so impassive?” he wants to know. 

“Pardon?” 

“It was a scary movie. How can you be so calm?” He looks around, lets his gaze wander - down the street, over the facades of the houses, back to Gaby, and finally, to the shadows. 

“It's just a movie, Illya.” His friend smiles softly. “Nothing can hurt you.” 

“I still want to go home,” he confesses. 

“Then go, I'll talk to him.” Gaby makes a shooing gesture. 

“Don't tell him I'm scared!” 

“Of course not, oh brave warrior of mine. Go now. I'll take care of everything.”

Even if he doesn't say it out loud, he is grateful for her support. Quickly, he turns around and starts heading home. It doesn't take long to get there, but he has a few near-death experiences on his way. Starting with a cat’s wailing cries, continuing with children playing hide and seek in the dark and ending with his mobile phone going off. 

A glance at the screen tells him it's Solo. Shaking his head, he pockets it and ignores the load of text messages coming in. He doesn't need the half-assed support attempts, just a good night’s sleep. From past experience he knows that the fear will subside afterwards, but he does not look forward to lying in his dark room – sleeping for the first time after a horror movie is never pleasant. 

It is one of the main reasons he does not enjoy watching them. The other being him having to hold back flinches and screams because he is supposed to be the one who looks out for his friends, not the one needing support. 

Somethings taps him on the back, just when he is about to unlock the apartment door. He tenses all over, a coldness grabbing hold of his limps. This is it. It is his end. The claws grab at him, relentless, merciless, ready to tear him into shreds. He lets out an inhuman screech and throws his attacker over his shoulder. With no small amount of shock, he registers, that it's Solo. 

“Well,” he begins, rubbing his back, “I imagined making you scream differently.” 

“Are you out of your mind?” Illya shouts, chest heaving, his hands trembling. 

Solo starts, looking at him with wide eyes, almost like a deer caught in the headlights. “What’s gotten into you, Peril?” 

“Nothing,” Illya lies and helps Solo to his feet. “I thought you and Gaby wanted to grab something to eat?” he tries to change the topic. 

“We wanted to, but then you decided to run off and leave m- leave us. And don’t tell me it’s because you gained weight. That’s no excuse,” Solo says, using the weapon Illya fears the most, his Achilles tendon so to speak: the puppy eyes. 

“Cowboy,” he rasps, “It has nothing to do with you. Or Gaby. I just wanted to go home, I am tired.” 

There is a small pause, Solo scrutinising him, then he sighs and looks down. “Alright, then let’s go inside.” 

“What about Gaby?” Illya asks, looking past Solo. 

“What about her?” – “Where is she?” 

“Does it matter?” Solo unlocks the door to their apartment and holds it. 

“Of course it does!” he hisses, waiting impatiently for his answer, he hates being left in the dark. 

His partner just hums and steps into the hall right after him. Only then he notices his strategic mistake: all lights are out. While Solo crouches down to untie his shoes, he freezes and looks around. It is hard to bring himself out of his stupor and he has to shake his head. Faster than he can think, his hand flies to the switch, nearly smashing it the process since he uses too much force. 

“Good grief!” Solo winces. “We talked about damaging common property, didn’t we?” 

“It was too dark.” Illya toes off his shoes and trails into the living room, turning on every light on his way. 

He hears Solo following him – his partner might possess the elegance of a panther while on a mission, but as soon as he is home, he turns into a kitten. A little bit clumsy, a little bit playful, a little bit too curios, noisy and too adorable to handle when falling asleep on the couch. 

“You forgot a lamp,” he jokes. 

“I do like to see things,” Illya answers and sits down in his favourite armchair – the one he brought from his old flat back in St. Petersburg. 

“Oh?” Solo lifts a brow and smirks. “Anything special in mind?” He leans against the armrest, in reach but still too far away. 

In this moment, there are miles separating them – Solo’s flirtatious ways, Illya’s own reluctance to open up completely, his fear of ruining one of his most important friendships. His hands are trembling. His heart is beating too fast. He feels lost. 

“You” he chokes out nevertheless. 

For the fracture of a second, he sees Solo’s surprised face. Then, complete darkness surrounds them. A power outage most likely, but something tells him, it's not that simple. Someone is brushing his shoulder and he flinches. There is a startled yelp, a heavy weight landing on his lap, pressing him into the chair. 

“Nyet,” he cries out, starting to struggle against his attacker. 

“Peril, stop!” Solo grabs his shoulders. “It’s me. Everything is alright, we’re not under an attack.” 

“How do you know? Anyone could be behind this!” he argues. 

“Wait. Let me …” – “Ouch!” – “Was that your nose?” 

There is a lot of awkward shuffling. The kind that would be very distracting under different circumstances. 

“What are you doing down there?” – “Trying not to get lost,” Solo whispers. “Finally,” he breaths, unlocking his phone. 

“And what now?” Illya looks at him, too afraid to let his gaze wander – if he cannot see the danger waiting in the dark it is most likely not there. 

Solo starts caressing his chest with his free hand. “You think I’m special?” 

“Are you serious? Now?” Illya huffs. 

“Yes?” – “It is pitch black!” – “As observant as ever.” – “Shut up.” 

“Well” Solo starts. 

“Oh no! Don’t you dare use something tasteless like a cheap pick-up line on me!” Illya interrupts. 

His partner shuts his mouth, fiddling with his phone until he gets the flashlight started, before placing it on the coffee table. The silence that follows afterwards is too much for his nerves, he wants to keep calm but he can't and it is only partially Solo’s fault. 

“Nothing to say?” he blurts out moments later. 

“Just a tasteless pick-up line, but we can skip that part.” Solo changes position, facing Illya completely, kneeling over his lap. 

One heartbeat, two, and they are kissing. Illya has always imagined their first kiss to be heated, tearing off each other’s clothes, caught in the post-mission frenzy. Reality however, turns out to be very different. It starts slow, nothing more than a soft brush of lips, Solo burying his fingers in his hair, Illya chasing his smile. 

“Better than talking?” he whispers against Illya’s lips. 

Instead of answering, he kisses Solo again, more fierce this time, making him part his lips, his hands wandering downwards, pulling him closer. One of them moans softly – Illya strongly suspects, it's him. And still, there is no rush. They explore each other with tentative strokes, Solo plucking his shirt out of his trousers. 

He hears a soft _click_ and pauses. “Did you hear that?” he wants to know, remembering the movie and his horrors. 

“Hm?” Solo strokes his cheek. “What are you talking about?” 

“There was a noise. Like someone closing the door to our apartment” he exclaims and carefully pushes Solo off. 

“Peril, nobody except the three of us has a key.” 

Illya shakes his head and tries to will down his panic. Something is watching them. He can feel its gaze, the hateful smirk directed at him. There is only one safe place coming to his mind and it's down a dark, dark corridor: his own bed. 

“Sorry, I am tired, I need to go to sleep.” The sentence rushes out of him while he spins around. 

“Peril, wait!” Solo grabs his arm, but he frees himself and sprints into his room. 

He does not bump into anything, remembering Solo’s open bed room door and where Gaby left their vacuum cleaner. As soon as he locks himself into his own four walls, he gets out of his trousers, jumps onto his bed and buries himself under the blanket. 

Calm. Peace. Safety. Nothing can hurt him now. He sighs. 

“Peril?” Solo knocks onto his door. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, just tired. Good night,” he lies. 

Silence follows but he knows that Solo hasn't left. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.” He closes his eyes and exhales slowly. “I am in bed already.” 

“Did we move too fast?” Solo asks, voice small. 

A few things are bothering him: his fear, his wish to stay in bed, his partner’s insecurity, the fact that he is standing in the dark, completely oblivious to the danger. It takes him exactly three seconds to get to the door. 

“It has nothing to do with you, Cowboy. I just want to sleep. I enjoyed kissing you.” He pecks Solo on the lips. “Sleep well.” 

Sly thief that he is, his partner steals another kiss. “You too.” 

Then, he wants to leave him in the dark. Illya’s mind wanders to an unpleasant place, leading him to draw Solo into his arms. “Why don’t you sleep with me?” 

His partner lifts both brows. “Didn’t you want to take it slow?” 

“That is not what I meant,” Illya stammers, face red, “I wanted to know if you want to sleep in my room? I think it’s better for your safety.” 

“If you sleep better this way.” He can hear Solo’s smirk, deciding against acting on it, because he really doesn't want to spend the night alone. 

“I just need to change.” – “Okay.” 

Solo heads into his own room and Illya goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth. It takes him a while to get there, since his only source of light is his phone. 

By the time he is finished, he expects Solo to be ready, which is not the case, so he decides to wait for him. At least, he tries to, but the darkness is too thick, forcing him to escape into his bed. Fortunately, Solo lies down behind him soon enough and kisses his neck. 

“Did you lock the door?” he wants to know. 

“Yes, I did.” Solo plays with the hem of his shirt, tickling him. 

Gently, he intertwines their fingers to stop him. “I forgot to feed Frederik. The fodder is still in the kitchen.” 

He can hear and feel Solo’s groan. “Do you want to get up again?” 

“No.” 

The arms around him are protecting him from the monsters and he loves being this close to his partner, their legs tangling, feeling his slow breaths against his back. He is sure he has never felt safer. With that thought in mind, and a happy smile on his face, he falls asleep. 

*** * ***

“Jungs?” Gaby places her shoes beside Napoleon’s. “Ich bin zu Hause!” 

She doesn't get an answer, which is very strange considering Illya’s overprotectiveness. Usually, he would be up and about, scolding her for staying away that long, making him worry. She had expected an endless rant about her being too careless, not the silence that greets her. 

Relieved, she shrugs. She doesn't need Illya’s worried puppy eyes or Napoleon’s amused glances. After her little talk with the latter, she had decided to go for a walk in the park of their apartment complex. Then, the power outage had hit the whole district, everything going dark. 

She had not been very worried, it was probably a result of their last mission. Chasing a TRUSH agent through a power station, shots flying everywhere had not been their best idea. A call from Waverly had confirmed her theory and she had started her walk home. 

Now, she stands in their living room and chews on her lip. She is not sure what to do next. It is still very dark in their flat and she doesn't look forward to spending the night alone. After a horror movie she needs to cuddle up to someone – Napoleon preferably because he gives the best hugs. 

A bright flash and she covers her eyes. The power seems to be back, dazzling her, bringing tears to her eyes. “Scheißdreck!” 

After a few moments of adjustment, she looks around. Every light in their flat appears to be turned on. “Brauchen wir Festbeleuchtung?!” 

Illya and his fear of the dark. She shakes her head and starts turning off the lights, when she hears a strange _click_ coming from the balcony. “Huh.” 

Slowly, she inches closer, the faint light revealing the source of the noise: Frederik, their crow. Ever since Napoleon had started feeding it, the bird had decided to visit them once in a while. Gaby gets a bowl of peanuts from the kitchen counter, opens the door and crouches down. 

“Hey, hast du Hunger?” 

Frederik crows, as if in answer and hops into reach. She places the bowl in front of him, watching him for a while before getting up. “Gute Nacht, Frederik.” 

The bird crows again. Then, she shuts the door, deciding to head to bed. She brushes her teeth, changes into one of Napoleon’s shirt and one of Illya’s boxer shorts. Afterwards, she strolls over to her best friend’s room and knocks. 

There is no answer and she risks a peek. Napoleon is not in his bed, which means, he is- She gasps, slams the door shut and has to compose herself before running into Illya’s room. There they are, sleeping peacefully, Napoleon sprawled out on top of Illya, both of them looking too adorable to resist the temptation of taking a million photos. Snickering, she puts her phone on his desk and decides to sleep on his couch. As silent as possible, she gathers her blanket and pillow and heads into Illya’s room again. 

*** * ***

He is woken up by a strange shuffling sound and sits up immediately, pushing Solo off in the process. His partner lets out a small sound of protest and curls around him. “G’back to sleep.” 

Illya smiles and strokes through Solo’s soft curls. “In a moment, Cowboy.” 

The only source of light are the streetlamps, making it hard for him to spot something unusual. It takes him a while to notice the strange figure, standing in the shadows, frozen on the spot. As soon as he does, he nearly falls off the bed and starts searching for the knife on his nightstand. 

“Who are you?!” he cries, terror grabbing hold of him. 

“Illya, stop! You’re going to wake him,” the thing hisses, realisation hitting him, “It’s me.” 

“Gaby,” he whispers relieved. 

“Yes,” she answers and sits down on the floor. 

“What are you doing here?” he wants to know. 

“I cannot sleep alone after a horror movie,” she admits, “Napoleon and I are always sharing his bed, because we both need it.” 

“Hm.” He draws his brows together. “Do you want to sleep here as well?” 

Gaby looks surprised – he can’t see it, but judging by the way she tilts her head, he knows he is right. “Are you sure? It’s you first night together. I don’t want to impose.” 

“Chop Shop Girl, don’t be ridiculous.” He scoots back into Solo’s arms and makes room for her, patting the free spot. 

“Alright.” With a sigh, she gets up, places blanket and pillow on the mattress and lies down beside him. 

“Schlaf gut, Bussibär.” – “Du auch, Chop Shop Girl.” 

Surrounded by his family, he doesn't feel scared anymore. Instead, he feels protected, cared for, loved. Napoleon tightens his hold, Gaby sighs and he closes his eyes. Nothing can harm him. 

*** * ***

**Three months later**

The incident happens around 3.30 am. It's the third this week. He doesn't notice it's beginning - since he is sleeping peacefully. Only the outcome is noticeable. 

There is a sharp tug. Napoleon yelps and is shoved off the bed in an instant. 

His boyfriend yawns and turns around. “Cowboy, you have a mission to finish. Do svidaniya.” 

“Are you kidding me?!” he asks, but gets no answer, the silly idiot is fast asleep, hogging the blankets. 

He gets up and sighs. Then, he tries to lie down beside the giant oaf, but it's useless. There isn't any space left. 

“Would you mind scooting over?” he wants to know. 

Still, no answer. 

“Hey?” he tries again. 

Suddenly, Illya shoots up like a rocket, jumps him and burrows him under a load of blankets. “No, don't go,” he whines, “It's only too early. You don't need to be anywhere.”

Amused, Napoleon snuggles up against Illya and tries to hold back the laugh threatening to bubble up. “I'm staying,” he tells him and kisses his furrowed brows. 

“Very good.” Illya does his best octopus imitation and exhales a warm drawn-out breath, ruffling his locks. Natural, now that they are free of any product. 

“I love you, you ridiculous human being,” he whispers, happily, hiccupping, because the laugh cannot win the fight. Nope. 

“Love you too. You staying is the best news,” Illya tells him, still very asleep and he cannot help the silly laugh escaping his lips. 

For a moment, Napoleon is happy and feels content. He wants to stay forever in this position, safe, protected, loved. 

Right until the asshole sharing bed with him whispers: “You will protect me from the shadow people. They can only get one per night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are again. I was really insecure about posting this one since I have the feeling that it's too ridiculous. Well, I hope you enjoyed anyway.  
> Thank you for reading :D 
> 
> I feel like I need to elaborate the term "Bussibär". A literal translation would be something like "kissy bear". It's a character from a magazine for children with the same name. [Here](http://www.bussibaer.de/) is the offical website. I'm afraid it's only in German though.
> 
> **Translations**
> 
> _Der Film war doch obergeil!_ – The movie was awesome!  
>  _Bist du so blöd oder stellst du dich nur so?_ – Are you this stupid or are you just pretending to be?  
>  _Jungs?_ – Boys?  
>  _Ich bin zu Hause!_ – I’m home!  
>  _Scheißdreck!_ – Crap!/Shit!  
>  _Brauchen wir Festbeleuchtung?!_ – Do we need festive lights?  
>  _Hey, hast du Hunger?_ – Hey, are you hungry?  
>  _Gute Nacht, Frederik._ – Good night, Frederik.  
>  _Schlaf gut, Bussibär._ – Sleep well, Bussibär.  
>  _Du auch, Chop Shop Girl._ – You too, Chop Shop Girl.  
> 


End file.
